Don't Drop the AJ
by AlmostLawli
Summary: John invites Dave over for the weekend. Dave is wasting away their Saturday, passed out on the couch. This less than pleases John... What to do, what to do... - Just some random fluffy stuff I thought of while in English. It is DaveJohn/Hammertime/PepsiCola.


**Don't Drop the AJ**

Your name is JOHN EGBERT, and you're a bit cranky right now. It's 12:00 PM on a Saturday and your best friend, whom you invited over, is now passed out on the couch. Now, when I say passed out, I mean _passed out_. There was no waking this guy up.

You and said best friend, named DAVE STRIDER, had come home from school together that Friday to watch movies and play video games and whatever it was boys your age did these days. I don't know. Anyway, you both ended up passing out after a long Nic Cage movie marathon session. In all honesty, it didn't even consist mostly of movie watching. It was mainly you and Dave bickering over the movie and Cage, himself. It was still a fun experience, even if Dave did pass out 30 minutes before you.

Now he was lying on your couch, glasses just slightly askew, and in possibly the most awkward and uncool position known to man. He was face-down, one hand posed uncomfortably behind his back, the other slung precariously over his head, fingertips touching the rim of the sacred shades. His legs were bent at the knees, touching until you got there, where they were widely spread. Because of this, one of his legs was dangling off the edge of said couch. When you woke up to find him in this position, you were a bit surprised and had to stop yourself from exploding in laughter at the sight. Just the irony of it all, Mr. Cool kid all sprawled out on your couch like this. Which just the simple _fact _that you found it ironic made it hard for you to make fun of him for it considering this was _Dave Strider_ and irony seemed to be what he based his entire existence on.

It was still pretty funny.

Anyway, you were cranky because your Saturday, the most glorious of days, is being taken from you by your selfish best bro. How dare him. Unfortunately, everything you were doing didn't seem to be working. You yelled and flicked him and threw paper wads at his head. Heck, the only thing you hadn't done was full-on jump on him… And that was because you missed and catapulted yourself over the couch and onto the floor and you were too busy having a back spasm to try again. But not even that woke him up. He was such a heavy sleeper!

So, here you were, peeking over the arm of the couch, glowering at the other male… cranky. Now, if anyone were to tell you that you were being cranky, you would have denied it with every fiber of your being. But you were. You were being cranky. You wanted to _do_ something! And Dave was here, just wasting away the day. _Both of your days, being wasted._

"Daaaaaaaaaaaave!" you whined. "Get up already…"

Nothing.

"Dave."

Nope.

"Dave!"

Nada.

"DAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE."

I don't know why you keep trying. You've done this, like, 5 times now.

All the same, you sighed and rolled off the arm of the couch. What would get the blonde to wake up? You could screw with his turntables, maybe, but it's not like he brought them with him to your house. His sunglasses would work, but you wanted to wake him up, not inadvertently cause him to bolt up and break your face. That would be a bad thing to have happen.

But what? What would rouse the sleeping Coolkid? What…

And that's when it hit you. Pure genius suddenly flooded your mind. So suddenly, in fact, that you wondered why you hadn't thought of it before. You could be far enough away that he wouldn't hit you in his daze if and when he did wake up, and yet it should still be quite effective! Thank the glorious god that is Nic Cage, you got it.

The apple juice.

You had bought a bottle for Dave, seeing as he loved the stuff so much. He said he refused to wake up the next morning unless you got him some to drink. Huh. Look where that $2.84 got you. Anyway, you bolted up from your uncomfortable position on the floor and rushed to the refrigerator. Surely enough, when you got there, there was a large jug of apple juice, just ripe for the stealing. No one could stop you now. You sprang into action, grabbing the bottle and scrambling upstairs. Dave would feel the disturbance in the force soon enough, you knew it. You had to move quickly.

You got to your room and flung open the window. It was a good two stories down to the driveway below. There was no way the golden liquid would survive.

Gosh, you felt almost evil.

But in a good way.

You held the juice at arm's length, out the window and turned your head to call down to the sleeping beauty downstairs. "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE! I HAVE THE APPLE JUICE AND I _WILL_ USE DEADLY FORCE!" There was a rustling and a groan, followed by some mumbling and footsteps. You heard the familiar sound of the fridge door opening and then quickly being shut again. Before you could issue another threat, the blonde was suddenly in your doorway, ready for battle. Quite literally, actually, and that made you wonder for a moment if this was really better than a quick punch to the face… Oh well.

"Darn you and your flash-steppy-thing." You muttered indignantly. Dave just stared at you. It was a while before he said anything.

"Egbert."

"Strider."

A long silence followed.

"What are you doing?"

"You wouldn't wake up."

"So? You kidnap the apple juice?"

"Yes."

"You were that desperate?"

"It's past noon! I was bored!"

"That doesn't mean you screw with the juice of God."

"_I WILL BE JUICIFER_."

Another long silence. You stared at each other again. He took a step forward and you held the juice out farther, putting on a fake-distressed face. "I'll do it! I swear!" He took another step. "John, it doesn't have to be this way." You loosened your grip ever so slightly on the bottle, causing him to freeze. You had complete control here. Haha! He would never—

_SCREW THE STRIDER FLASH-STEPPY-THING!_

He flash-stepped towards you, but you were able to dodge just in time. Albeit, a bit ungracefully… okay, very ungracefully, but you dodged. The next strike came all too soon after, however, and you were being knocked away from the window and onto the bed. You were still holding onto the bottle with one hand, but Dave had you pinned by the wrists. "Hey! Dave!" You pouted and squirmed, but his grip only tightened. "I was so close!" You whined. Suddenly, a thought struck you and you grinned. "At least I got you up." Dave chucked slightly above you.

Wait, since when did the shaded boy do that?

And then you suddenly noticed the position that the both of you were in.

You looked up at him and stammered out, "Uh… D-Dave… could you get up now?" He smirked and shook his head. "Not happening, Egbert." You squirmed again. "Come on, Dave! Let me up!" He shook his head again. You huffed and just fell limp, glowering at the taller male.

And then _oh shhhhh—_

He was leaning down. Oh gog. Oh gog oh gog oh gog oh gog oggg. What was he doing? What is happening? Oh lord. Oh no, what?

And he stopped. Barely half a centimeter away from your face, he stopped. You stopped breathing, your heart stopped beating. Dave. Dave, what are you doing? Please don't lean forward any more… Or… Well, yes. Please do. But he didn't.

In fact, only moments later, he retreated. He stood up, finally freeing you, apple juice in tow. That's when you noticed your oddly empty hand. "Hey!" You bolted up. "You need to be more observant," He smirked again. You pouted, eyebrows furrowed in agitation. A blush crept its way up onto your face. "That's not fair!"

He took a swig of the apple juice and turned away from you. "Look, I know that this Strider Swag is just completely irresistible and I'm just super sexy as hell and all, but you gotta keep those teenage hormones in check, bro." You gaped. "H-Hey! Tha-That's not at all what that was, idiot!" He chuckled again. "Oh, please. You know you want a piece of this sweet Strider as—" he was cut off by a pillow to the back of his head.

He dropped the bottle, effectively spilling apple juice all over your floor and his shoes. You bust out laughing; victory had finally been served, and it was sticky and now soaking into your carpet, but you could clean it later. However, your celebrating was cut short when you noticed that Dave was now staring at you, a dangerous gleam in his aviators.

Well.

Now you supposed would be a good time to abscond.


End file.
